Bart's patience was tried. His eyes flashed, but he stooped and picked
up the pages and replaced them on the dry goods box.
"Don't you do that again," he warned in a strained tone.
"Why!" yelled Wacker, rolling up his cuffs.
"I'll trim you next! 'Don't-do-it-again!' eh? Boo! bah!"
Lem raised his foot and kicked over the desk, papers and all.
"That's express company property," observed Bart quietly, but his blood
was up, the limit reached. "Get out!"
One arm shot forward, and the clenched muscular fist rested directly
under the chin of the astounded Lem Wacker.
"And stay out."
Lem Wacker felt a smart whack, went whirling back over the threshold,
and the next instant measured his length, sprawling on the ground
outside of the express shed.
CHAPTER VII
WAITING FOR TROUBLE
Lem Wacker rolled over, then sat up, rubbed his head in a half-dazed
manner, and muttered in a silly, sheepish way.
"Lem Wacker," said Bart, "I have got just a few words to say to you, and
that ends matters between us. I am sorry I had to strike you, but I will
have no man interfering with the express company's affairs.
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